What if
by Riah P
Summary: Marik and Bakura are on a quest to find a mysterious item, which may grand them great wishes. But that probably won't happen. - YGO, Thiefshipping, probably abridged version


**What if...**

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Prologue

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The three thousand year old burden in Bakura's heart disappeared when Marik grabbed his shoulders and leaned closer to him. He forgot that he was standing ankle-high in mud and that the torch he was holding had almost burnt to its end, the flame reaching his bare skin .

"Bakura," whispered Marik, his eyes pinning Bakura to the ground, sucking Bakura's resistance out of his soul.

"Marik," murmured Bakura back, feeling his breath pace quicken in pace. A crackling heat began to spread in his chest as he watched the shine on Marik's face dance simultaneously with the flames of the fire.

The ancient spirit had fallen for this boy a long time ago, yet he had never expressed his feelings for him. He was quite aware that the other had noticed them as well. Why else would he play those games with him? Or was he serious? Could it be possible that Marik had finally overcome his fears and wanted Bakura ?

The tingling feeling of pain and lust crawled deeper and deeper into Bakura's gut as Marik parted his lips, clearing his throat before he spoke, "I think we're lost."

"What?" Bakura yelled, dropping the torch. It made a loud smacking sound as it sank into the mud. The fire extinguished, leaving them gasping at the sudden lack of light. Instinctively, Marik grabbed at Bakura's arm, pulling him closer. Bakura let him, knowing that Marik was experiencing nyktophobia – the fear of darkness. Marik wasn't speaking but Bakura could hear his breathing quicken, and thought he could hear his heart pound faster too . Although Marik's grip was tightening, he seemed to be suddenly distant.

The smell of burned wood irritated Bakura's nose, and he growled at his soggy sneakers, lugging Marik and himself out of the brownish ooze. "Come on," he sighed, "We have to move on. Sooner or later we'll find the exit." Those were the most comforting words Bakura could think of at the moment.

Marik's weight tilted Bakura to the side . He snarled and snorted loudly, showing him how much he disliked the burden that had decided to cling to his arm. Tumbling around in the complete darkness of a rotten cave with Marik was tiresome, especially if he wasn't talking. Bakura hated it when Marik was babbling but he hated it even more so when Marik wasn't at all. Something was wrong when Marik was quiet.

Bakura felt the need to interrupt the silence. "I don't know why I agreed to come with you. The existence of an eighth Millennium Item is impossible. I would have heard of it." There was a distant glimmer of light in the front, too dark to actually call it a light but also too bright to ignore it. Bakura moved as fast as he could towards it. He felt Marik's panic growing with every minute. His nails dug into Bakura's arm, his breathing exaggerated .

"Don't stop talking."

Bakura patted Marik's hand. "You're hurting me," he whispered . When Marik relaxed his grip Bakura picked up his rambling. "Neither the Pharaoh nor his minions have ever mentioned a bloody Millennium _Anklet_! Ridiculous." Bakura heaved a groan when he stepped into something squashy. He wiped his shoe at a rocky outcropping before continuing to walk. "Also your information source is pretty questionable if you ask me. A book that contains such information wouldn't be in a public library but hidden away somewhere! It must be bollocks!"

Marik breathed out and opened his eyes. He lifted his head as he saw the light source Bakura was aiming them at. "Ah."

"There must be another entrance. Or at least some opening," Bakura muttered. "I have some matches left."

Marik nodded eagerly. His steps quickened. "Talk louder."

"And why on earth was that mysterious eighth item not important enough to be included in the Millennium Stone?" Bakura grumbled. "Even if it exists, its power cannot be of any use if none of the Pharaoh's priests ever talked about it!" They hurried under the light that emerged from a tiny gap between the cave's boulders, spreading out in a sharp angle. The light formed a circular spot of glow on the rocky ground. It was full moon. "How was it even made without the Millennium Stone? The whole story makes no sense." Bakura shook his head as he and Marik parted. Marik looked up and his pupils dilated in the thin light .

"I know it makes no sense," Marik mumbled, knowing full-well that Bakura may well be right. He frowned and looked around, then gripped a rock and pushed a foot against the cave's side, heaving himself up. "But," he moaned, struggling , "But the book explained that the anklet was made two hundred years after the other Millennium Items." He gripped the wall , his feet searching for support. "It was made by some descendent of High Priest Seth ."

"Marik, what are you doing?" Bakura caught at Marik when he slipped off the rock. "The hole is too tiny to get through." He pushed Marik's butt helpfully. The Millennium Rod, tucked into Marik's belt, deflected a ray into Bakura's eyes, and he squinted at the light .

"Hey! Don't touch me there!" Marik yelled as Bakura smirked. It had been too tempting. Marik's ass wrapped in his dark jeans looked gorgeous from below, especially with the light from above. "I don't want to climb through, I just want to catch some fresh air."

Finally reaching the gap, Marik breathed deeply in and out. A gentle airflow caressed his face, the scent of spring trees fresh on the breeze. As the moon rested between the greyish clouds, the world seemed silent and peaceful.

Marik wiped the dirt off his hands and looked at Bakura. "Let me down," the Egyptian said.

Bakura offered his hand which Marik grabbed. He felt safe with Bakura close to him. He slid through Bakura's arm and when Marik was standing on the ground once more, Bakura's arm had settled about Marik's waist, their other hands locked tightly. Looking each other in the eyes as the light fell between them; partly on Marik's face and partly on Bakura's. They were inches apart, almost seemingly about to dance.

"Shall I light a match?" Bakura whispered, not averting his gaze on Marik nor letting go of him. Marik's blond hair glinted in the moon's light. His cheeks flushed subtly and his eyes sparkled.

"Yes, please." Marik replied. He was thankful that Bakura never laughed at his fears or asked for further information about it. He was the only one who was allowed to see him shiver and hear him whimper at nights. The only one who was allowed to wake him up from his nightmares. The only one who was allowed to stroke his head and stay with him until he fell asleep again.

"And why do you think the anklet is here?" Bakura let go of Marik, reaching for the matchbox. Marik watched his movements and smirked when the hissing flame of the match came to life.

"There was a map in the book showing the exact location." He smiled. "It's not far. Come on, Fluffy!" He strolled deeper into the cave, pouting when he looked back to see Bakura hadn't followed him immediately.

"I remember you saying we were lost." Bakura protected the match light with the palm of his hand and stepped cautiously towards Marik. The cave's sides got their color back, turning a brownish hue. Their shadows flickered restless, barely resembling their bodies.

"No, I know exactly where we are! That hole there was the missing indicator!" Marik pointed towards the gap above Bakura's head.

"Mm, alright." Bakura was still unsure about their mission, but walked closely beside Marik, listening to him humming one of the pop songs that were playing on the radio these days. The spirit was sure that there was no eighth Millennium Item, nevertheless he was enjoying the little trip with his crime partner. Marik was igniting sparks in Bakura's insides. He felt younger with Marik at his side. So much younger.

The match flickered out without warning, and Marik froze. His eyes searched for Bakura's face but the darkness was everywhere. The cave's walls seemed to close in. Marik thought he would suffocate. Bakura hastened to light up the next match. The saving flame mirrored in Marik's bright eyes. Bakura bestowed something rare on Marik; one of his smiles. It didn't seem to help.

Marik stared at the light in Bakura's hands. "How many matches are left?" He asked, trying to hide the trembling in his voice by speaking up.

"About twelve."

Marik nodded, "We should hurry up."

"Hey." Bakura stopped Marik from running off. "You should take that match and when it's almost burned out I'll light up the next one. Then there won't be an interruption between them."

"Good idea." Marik smiled as Bakura passed him the match carefully, but a sudden flow of wind passed by, blowing it out. Marik squeaked. The match fell onto the ground and Marik whimpered, covering his mouth with his hands and shutting his eyes. The walls were definitely closing in. The darkness grabbed his throat, making him choke.

Bakura lit up the next match. Marik was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling in a fast pace. He opened his eyes slowly and gawked into space with big pupils, pushing his eyebrows together. Stiff hands grabbed Bakura's shirt and pulled him close until Marik's forehead and Bakura's met. "...Mm!" Marik snorted, Bakura could feel his warm breath on his face. Marik held Bakura's shirt firmly and squeezed his eyes shut. "Ughm... Mmm..."

Marik had had some sort of panic attack, Bakura figured, letting him grab at his shirt. Bakura focused on watching out for the match, not wanting to catch their hair on fire. It burned out soon, the fire letting out its last breath, and filling the air with the smell of its death. Bakura tossed it away.

"Uhh..." Marik's breath tickled at Bakura's lips alluringly; his distressed moans made him worry though.

Gently, as not to startle Marik, Bakura undid Marik's fingers, loosening them from his shirt. He could feel the slight shudder that rushed through Marik's tense body. When Bakura let go off Marik's hands, they jumped back at his neck, grasping his shirt once more, and jolting Bakura. Their foreheads disconnected for a moment.

"Mmh..." Marik whined silently, his grip around Bakura's neck becoming tighter and the pressure against Bakura's forehead stronger.

Again, Bakura detached himself from Marik, but held his wrists this time and pulled him as he walked backwards, until they were standing under the opening again. As soon as Bakura released Marik's hands, they grabbed his neck and Bakura gulped. Marik's hands were as warm as his breath, brushing Bakura's chin slightly. "Hey, open your eyes," Bakura murmured, putting his hands reluctantly on Marik's shoulders. He hated to see Marik vulnerable; Bakura believed Marik believed Marik should always feel strong and proud, not frightened like this.

"No...!" Marik's voice broke at this small word. He grazed his head against Bakura's, keeping his eyes closed. In need for more comfort he leaned closer until their noses touched.

Bakura stiffened up at first, "Marik," His voice was flustered , "Open your eyes." Marik gave a quiet whimper and Bakura inched closer, brushing Marik's cheek when his lips formed words. "Look up, we're under the gap. We're safe."

Blinking and holding his breath, Marik left Bakura's touch and leaned his head back. He sighed in relief at the soft caress of wind on his face. Then he dropped his eyes to Bakura and stared at him in bewilderment. As if he had just been placed before Bakura, he pushed him away, scowling, "What are you doing!"

Hissing, Bakura stumbled back. "Right, _my_ fault," he muttered, clenching teeth.

Marik glared at him and Bakura glared right back. Bright eyes met dark eyes, embarrassment and anger met lust and confusion. Finally, Marik snorted looking away, and Bakura clenched his fists.

Bakura missed Marik's warmth, his smell and his little moans and he hated Marik for that. "Marik," he said. "Marik, you will wait under the light and I will go and look for the anklet, got it ?"

Slowly exhaling, Marik gave a nod . "And if you don't find it?" he asked. Before Bakura could reply, Marik opened his mouth and eyes widely and laughed. "Oi Bakura, we must be near! Look!" He pointed at Bakura's Millennium Ring. All five spikes were aiming towards the only passage the both thieves had not entered yet, the object glowing in the dim light.

Bakura stared at his Millennium Ring. Was it true after all? Did an eighth Millennium Item exist? Really? Marik's Millennium Rod was glowing as well. Bakura felt betrayed by his ring. How could he have not known about the eighth Millennium Item?

Chuckling, Marik grabbed Bakura's wrist, and pulled and pushed him towards the untaken passage, "Go, Fluffy Puff! Find me that Millennium Anklet! With it we shall rule the world! Hahaha!" Obviously, his partner in crime was in a good mood again, and Bakura rolled his eyes, moving further into the passage.

"Ohh Bakura! Find it! Find it! It must be there!" Marik trailed, grinning and leaping, a distinct bounce in his step. His eyes were bright with anticipation; he reminded Bakura of a child who could not wait for the sweets its parents had bought.

The ring was inpatient too - it elevated away from Bakura's chest, twitching its spikes. The cord pulled at Bakura's neck. The Millennium Items wanted to meet, they belonged together after all. Restless and indestructible was the force between them. Thousands of years old, yet powerful as though forged yesterday.

The spirit hustled towards the darkness, following the call. He could feel it in his chest.

_Come closer, come closer! ~_

Unmistakable, that was a Millennium Item. But how could it be? All the Millennium Items were buried under a thick layer of sand and stone - except for Bakura's ring and Marik's rod, which the both thieves had dug out in a moonlit night like this. It had to be true after all. The eighth Millennium Item did exist.

_Come...! ~_

"Don't worry, I'm bloody coming." Bakura had to watch his step, the ground was becoming more uneven. He put one hand on the wall for support. The walls were closing in, this time for real. The passage narrowed. There, a last turn to the right and...!

Nothing.

Bakura stood before a blind alley.

"How's it going? Update me, Bakura!" Marik yelled from behind.

"Um." Bakura frowned. He watched his ring while moving his body back and forth, then side to side. The spikes pointed stubbornly towards a spot on the wall, although nothing but boulders and soil could be seen. Touching the cold wall didn't help, the rocks were solid; nothing moved. Murmuring curses did not help either. "Dammit!" Bakura hit the wall with his fist.

"Bakura!"

"Wait a second, Marik." Bakura leaned closer to the wall, letting his ring touch the wall with a single spike. Here. But there was still nothing. Yet there had to be something, why else would the Millennium Ring react so strongly? Bakura scratched the spot with his fingernails. Solid stone. No way could he demolish it.

"Bakura!"

"Fuck Marik, I am coming, wait a second!" Bakura spun around to glare at Marik. Marik seemed not to see him in the darkness though as he kept moving his head and squinting his eyes. Bakura sighed.  
The blond was the incarnate of impatience. Bakura knew what was about to happen. He would return to Marik and fill his eyes with disappointment. His pouting lips would form a statement of disbelief and then he would want to see it for himself. Hopefully this time the matches would work in their favor .

"Bakura!"

"I'm coming," Bakura muttered. He turned to the wall for a last time, snorting at his Millennium Ring whose spikes still wanted to meet the mysterious force behind the wall. "Shit." Bakura kicked the wall and turned away. He hated to lose to someone even if that someone was nothing more than stonewall. Maybe they could come back later with an air drill or something similar.

Bakura did not notice that his foot had broken loose a small rock, which in turn had kept a bigger one inside the wall. First, the smaller one rolled to his feet, then the bigger one followed and bumped against Bakura's sneaker. Bakura stopped walking and looked down.

More and more rocks moved, the wall began to crack audibly. Bakura was too slow, by the time he had turned to face the wall he was already buried under a pile of rocks, mud and dirt.

"Bakura?" 

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Hearing the crash of stones and rocks put Marik on alert. What was going on? He could not see anything and did not dare to move too far from the light source. Was Bakura in danger?

"Bakura?"

The echo of the crash faded out. A gentle pour of small rock pieces followed and a dusty blow reached Marik's feet. Then nothing, save Marik's loud breathing.

"Bakura!"

The silence frightened Marik to death. What had happened? Was Bakura okay? Marik whimpered. What would he do without the other man? Normally Marik was courageous and vigorous, but in this cave? Facing his worst nightmare? He was dependent on his white-haired friend. Without Bakura he wouldn't make it out of the cave, he needed Bakura's light, his words, him .

One step away from the circle of light was bearable, two steps not so much. Marik jumped back under the gap and looked up, "Fuck!" he cursed, turning away from where he had heard the cave in. He grabbed the bangs of his hair. "Bakura!" he cried. "Bakura, what happened! Come back! Say something! Fuck! Fuck!" Outside, the clouds traveled through the dark blue night peacefully unaware of what was happening inside the cave.

"Bakura if this is some kind of joke it is not funny!" Marik gulped.

It was no use; he knew what he had to do.  
With a scream Marik turned around and dashed towards the darkness, letting it swallow him. The air felt thick and tense on his skin. Every step could be the last one; he could fall into the bottomless night and never return again. Darkness. Blackness everywhere.

But instead of missing the ground, Marik tripped on it. His shriek's echo surrounded him but his hand found something soft, something familiar .

"Bakura," Marik mumbled, "Bakura. Bakura. What happened, Bakura." He freed some hair from the rocks and pushed away dirt until he found skin, a nose, a pair of lips.

"Bakura." There was no answer. Marik pulled at the hair and shook the head but Bakura did not react.

Marik slid to Bakura's side and continued to dig him out, repeating his name like a mantra. Finally Bakura coughed and his body jerked to life . "Ah..."

"Bakura!" Marik wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him close. "Oh, Bakura," he sighed. "You're alive. Oh! Oh."

Bakura coughed and spat. "Marik." He shortly forgot what was going on and where he was.

"Bakura."

"Marik." Bakura's memory came back. The Millennium Anklet, the cave, the stonewall. "Ugh."  
He would have liked to embrace Marik as well, but he couldn't find the strength to do so. His skin hurt in so many spots that he could barely move. "Get me out," he moaned.

Marik nodded. "Yes." He squeezed his friend before releasing him, something he had never done before. While Marik was removing rocks and stones, Bakura moaned silently, spewing out dirt.

"Damn," he muttered. "Marik, this is your fault."

"What? How is that my fault?" Marik paused in his work to scowl at Bakura but he couldn't even tell whether the other had his eyes open or closed. "Why do you say that? I'm here in the dark with you, digging your clumsy ass out of the dirt and you dare to insult me!" He snorted and pouted. Why was Bakura so unfriendly? He should rather thank him!

"You brought us here," Bakura coughed. They were still surrounded by darkness and he wanted to distract Marik as long as possible from it. Without Marik, he would be trapped under the rocks forever and without Bakura, Marik would be trapped in the cave forever. Making Marik angry was an easy task for Bakura and it would keep him from getting afraid.

"You didn't have to follow me!" Marik was almost done, his anger had picked up the pace up in his hands. "You could have waited outside!" One of the rocks that Marik tossed, bumped back at him and he turned his head, startled. There seemed to be another wall behind the one that had collapsed. Marik reached out his hand and found this assumption to be true.

Bakura moved his legs and pulled them out of the rock pile. "Without me you would be too afraid to walk around here."

Marik hissed. "Without you, the torch would still be burning!" He tossed the last rocks to the side.

Bakura groaned. "Alright, whatever. Help me up." He raised one arm, searching for Marik. "Where are you?"

"Here." Marik grabbed his partner in crime and lifted him up, supporting him. Bakura could barely move and his body felt heavy, his muscles were stiff. "Dammit." He clenched his teeth, letting the sharp pain in his back pass by before he moved his legs. "What about the anklet," he asked, realizing that the obstacle between his ring and the alleged eighth Millennium Item was gone.

"We can still come back. Let's get you out of here, first," Marik said. Although he would have liked to try to demolish the next wall, Bakura's well-being was more important. Perhaps they would have to take him into a hospital.

"But maybe it's just right there!"

"The wall is still there you know. It was just the first layer of it that fell on you," Marik explained.

"Damn it." Bakura growled as they continued going. After two steps he frowned. Something was different. "Ah. Marik." He stopped walking and grabbed at his own shirt. "My ring is missing."

"It must be somewhere under the rocks," Marik mumbled . "Shall I get it? Can you stand?"

Bakura nodded, and then remembered that Marik couldn't see in this gloom. "Yes, please. I can stand." The dark spirit was used to pain and he would get better. It didn't feel like he had broken any bones, he just had a couple of bruises and they would heal fast as he was inhabiting the young, healthy body of a teenager. Still he leaned against the wall, listening to Marik tossing away rocks and stones again.

"Hm, I think I've got it," his blond partner muttered. His fingers had touched something cold and slick, something made of gold. He had to pull harder to get it out. "Nngh, frig!"

If there had been actual daylight in the cave, Bakura would have seen Marik's roll backwards and would have probably chuckled at that scene, but here in the dark all Bakura could make out was a loud thump. Marik stood up and held the prize up in the air, unintentional. The object wasn't as heavy as the Millennium Ring and Marik had used too much force to lift it up. "Huh."

"What is it?" Bakura stepped closer to Marik.

"This isn't your ring." 

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**A/N: Cliffhanger! I know I'm mean. I hope you still liked it!  
Each next chapter will continue where this one has ended, creating alternative outcomes. Um, if you read on you will get it! xD**

**SUPER SPECIAL AWESOME THANKIES TO MY BETA READERS KATE AND ARIA**

**YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE**

**I LOVE YOU UWU**

**If you wonder about my other fic, well eh... I will continue writing, it will take time though e^e I am very sorry.**


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